


Fault

by RhiBee



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Everything Hurts, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Panic Attacks, Sad, The Author Regrets Everything, everything went wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhiBee/pseuds/RhiBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chris Beck fails to rescue Mark Watney from orbit. Beck can't forgive himself, Johanssen tries to help. </p><p>But who was he kidding, in the light of day, or artificial lights, Chris knew it was his fault. He was the EVA specialist and he had failed at it. He should have grabbed the MAV itself instead of the canvas, he should have known he would be unable to get a good hold on it. He should have told Mark to jump out of the ship, maybe that would have worked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fault

“11 meters to target,” Johanssen’s voice rang clear over the COM system. 

“Okay, counter-thrusting,” Beck said back, the MAV looming in front of him. Through the glass of his face plate and the tattered remains of the covering Watney had pieced over the gaping opening in the front of the MAV he could see the astronaut. He knew he was there, but he seemed so far away. Their gazes met. “Velocity?”

“1.1 meters per second,” Beck nodded to himself, moving the MMU thrusters. 

“Good enough. I’m drifting towards it. I think I can get my hand on some of the torn canvas,” Beck muttered, reaching over and grappling at the canvas. It was the only handle he could possible get on the otherwise smooth ship. “Contact,” He said, a spark of hope in his eyes as his fingers closed around the canvas. Beck thought he had heard Lewis sigh in relief through the COM.

“Dr. Beck, we have past the closest approach point. You only have 169 meters of tether left. Enough for 14 second.” Vogul sounded. Beck scrambled to get a better hold on the canvas, but it was slippery against his suit. Habb canvas wasn’t made for gripping, it was made to protect against sand and wind. A smooth surface would do this best. Beck pushed at the canvas, trying to get a better view of Watney, he did, and Watney smiled and waved, a look of relief washing over his face. Still, Beck struggled with the canvas, he couldn’t get a good hold. 

“8 seconds,” Vogul stated. Beck scrambled and watched as Watney’s relief was replaced with fear. He struggled with his restraints, pulling them away and reaching out to desperately try and help. 

“4 seconds,” Beck’s fingers slipped uselessly and suddenly the tether jerked uncomfortably back. He grappled with the canvas as the MAV drifted, attached only to him by the fabric. Watney panicked, trying to push himself to Beck, but the MAV pulled away. The connection between Watney and the only hope of ever coming home was a little piece of canvas and as Beck tried to hold on tighter the pieces of rope he has used to tie it down failed him and snapped. Beck drifted backwards and his heart jumped up into his throat. Watney gripped the edge of the MAV and they met eye contact. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Beck said, and Watney just nodded back to him. 

“Don’t worry, I liked the Martians better than humans anyway,” Watney chuckled, but as he did Beck could hear the tears catching in his throat. _God_ , Beck thought, _what kind of man could make a joke as he drifted towards his death?_ Chris felt his own tears in his eyes, and he could hear someone crying through the COM. He realized suddenly that he was going to be the last person to see Mark Watney alive. 

“There has to be away,” Beck said swiftly, “Vogul, untie the tether, I’m going after him.” Watney had to be about twenty meters from him. He could use the MMU thrusters to get to him. 

“Beck no,” Lewis’ voice surprised him, “You don’t have enough fuel,” Beck’s breathing was getting more labored with every meter Watney drifted away from him. 

“Maybe, maybe Watney could come to me, h-he could just..” Beck was grasping for straws, but he knew the distance was to great between them. Watney was tumbling further and further away. “W-we could just change the maneuver..” 

“Then we would lack the gravitational assist we need to get back to Earth,” Someone said, shooting down another idea. 

“Well I don’t see you guys thinking up anything!” Chris snapped suddenly, his eyes focused intensely on Watney.

“Chris it’s over.” Watney said suddenly, his voice stronger and sterner than Beck figured his would be if he was in Watney’s shoes, or well, space suit. “It’s over, don’t worry, I have a plan, just shut the COM system off,” 

“Mark, Mark I’m so sorry,” Beck called, fighting back the choking sobs, Mark was almost out of view now, “I’m so, so sorry,” 

“It’s not your fault, shut the COM system off, it’s none of you guy’s fault.” 

“Shutting system down...” Lewis said, almost in a whisper, “Goodbye Mark,” 

And the line went silent. Beck let himself scream at his failure, all alone, in silence. As Mark Watney drifted away. 

\----

Chris woke in a heavy sweat, panting as he sat up in his bunk. Climate control had failed in two of the crew’s rooms, and it was starting to fail in his. In his moment he had unstuck himself from Beth, their combined feet had pushed the covers off the bed sometime in the night. Or well, the early night. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was only 1 am. The team operated on central American time. He slowly sat up, detaching himself from Beth’s sweaty grip and scrubbed his hands through his hair. 

He could still see him.

Beck could see Watney drifting away from him behind his eyelids always. It was like having a song stuck in your head, he could never get rid of it. Even if he had spent the last one hundred days trying to get it out of his head. 

But Mark never left him alone. For a while he had himself convinced that he was haunted, but then the reminded himself of the years of schooling he had gone through and how ghost obviously were not real, in no way or form. Chris rubbed at his eyes until the sight of Mark drifting away changed into speckles of light behind his eyelids. 

It was so hot, and he felt like he couldn’t breath. Mark wouldn’t leave him alone. He felt like he was going to puke. 

In a careful haste to get fresh air Beck untangled himself from Beth and climbed out of the much to small bed, sliding open the door to the room and shutting it gently behind him once he stepped out. The hallway felt just as hot as the room, even if he knew there was not climate control problems anywhere in the Hermes besides Martinez and Watney’s rooms. 

Beck walked with brisk confidence down to the rec area, the pantry, stocked high with food packed after food packet felt colder than all the other rooms. He curled his toes onto the cold tile floor, basking himself in the artificial light from the ceiling. Beck tried to busy himself by checking and rechecking the counts on the food packets. Lewis kept a strict whiteboard right outside the pantry with the numbers of how many packets they had of what. 

But no matter how many times he counted and recounted the drawer full of sweet and sour chicken he still felt sick. 

This happened to him a lot. 

Beck had found that the only way he could sleep at night was to try and pretend that it was someone else’s fault that Mark had to die in orbit around the red planet. Some nights it was that Martinez had screwed up the take off, or that Lewis had commanded them all astray. Or sometimes it was JPL’s fault for making Mark take off from Mars without a front on his ship. He had even found himself blaming Beth for maybe doing the math wrong, or Vogel for failing to de-accelerate them to the proper velocity.

But who was he kidding, in the light of day, or artificial lights, Chris knew it was his fault. He was the EVA specialist and he had failed at it. He should have grabbed the MAV itself instead of the canvas, he should have known he would be unable to get a good hold on it. He should have told Mark to jump out of the ship, maybe that would have worked. v 

Chris knew it wouldn’t have worked. He thumbed through yet another stack of food packets, savoring the cold of the tile of his feet. 

“Chris?” The sleepy voice spooked him out of his thoughts and the stack of steak and mashed potatoes tumbled on to the ground. Beth stood in the doorway, sleep heavy on her eyelids, but she too startled when the packets hit the tile. Beck stooped to scoop the packets up into his arms, muttering apologies to himself? No, to Beth. She approached him like he figured she would approach a startled horse. But he knew she had never worked with animals, only computers. Chris thought suddenly of his lab mice, and how they would hide in the corner of their cages we he tried to scoop them out. 

“You alright?” She asked. Beck knew she already knew the answer. Beth gently slid a hand up his shoulder, “Why are you up?” 

“I could ask the same thing of you, Miss heavy sleeper,” Chris was trying to pull the conversation away from himself. Beth smiled at his jibe at her, but he could tell she wasn’t fooled by his ruse. Her hand slipped up the rubb at the baby hairs on the base of his neck. 

“C’mon let’s go back to bed,” She said, almost in a whisper. Chris thought he might puke he went back to the warm room. 

“No, I...” He struggled with an excuse, “I’m not tired,” He finally finished. That was a lie, he was exhausted. Haunted by images of Mark Watney he was always tired. This was apparent by the bags under his eyes. Chris had noticed them yesterday morning when he had gone to take his shower. He was sure he hadn’t been that bad since Med school. 

Johansson huffed. 

“If that was an excuse it was a pretty bad one.” Her hand dropped to her side, moving to fiddle with the frayed edge of her sweatshirt sleeve. “I know I’ve told you this a million times...” 

“Beth don’t.”

“It’s not your fault.” Her green eyes softened as Chris took a ragged breath, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I’m not lying, it’s not your fault, it was a crazy plan, JPL and NASA both said that failure was very probable. Chris? Are you listening?” 

He wasn’t. Mark and everyone’s words rung in his ears. 

Lewis had sat him down the next day, once they were back on track to Earth. She had held his hand, in a comforting way, which was not normal for Lewis. 

“No one blames you,” She had told him, her voice soft and quiet, but it had only made the tears return to his eyes. “You did nothing wrong. You were just following orders.”

Martinez, Vogul, JPL, NASA, Lewis, they all said the same thing: It’s not your fault. 

Mark had said it too, and Chris thought that might have been why it hurt so bad. 

_“It’s not your fault, shut the COM system off, it’s none of you guy’s fault.”_

He drifted back to her when Beth took his hand in hers. He pulled it back, sharper than he really meant too, to scrub it through his hair again, all of their words ringing in his ears. She didn’t look hurt but just looked to her bare feet. 

“Chris...” She started, but never finished, and Beck swallowed the tears back. He was covering his face with his hands, and rubbing at the hem of his collar, anything to keep his hands from being still. Once he had still hands, the hands of a surgeon. The hands that had done beautiful cuts and discussions. Now they shook. Because he knew those hands had been the one that had doomed Mark. The failure to grab the MAV firmly. Chris had begun to think he was just a downright murderer. Would NASA put him on trial for manslaughter? Why not, he had essentially killed Mark. 

He snapped back to reality in the middle of Beth’s lecture,”....just know you always have me, I’m never going to leave you, or blame you for what happened.” She had taken his hands back in hers, steading them. “C’mon, if you can’t go back to bed, at least come sit down at the table.” Chris didn’t fight her, and allowed himself to be lead by the hands to sit down at the white, NASA certified table. It didn’t feel as cool at the tile floor in the pantry had, but he still leaned to rest his cheek against it. He felt Beth sit down next to him and rub circles into his back. 

She’s just trying to help. His subconscious told him. She loves you, she doesn’t blame you. 

Beth leaned her head against his shoulder blade, and her gentle breath on his neck seemed to calm his nerves for the moment. Beck hadn’t noticed he was breathing so hard until his breath begun to calm.

 _Panic attack?_ His mind raced to self diagnose. _Nausea, shaking, hyperventilation. It is common for patients to undergo panic attacks when under severe stress, or when a death of a loved one occurs, along with many other causes._ Chris could vividly remember the page in his psychology textbook. A photographic memory did that to you. 

He slowly sat up and Beth stirred with him. He wasn’t sure how long they had been at the table for. She blinked slowly at him and he reached up to touch her cheek, and then the hair that had fallen loose from the bun she had slept in. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris murmured, running his finger back to hold her cheek. Beth smiled, so slight he almost didn’t catch it. She leaned up to kiss him, soft and comforting.

“I forgive you,” 

“I’m so, so sorry...” He was drifting, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was apologizing to her or Mark now. God, if he had a quarter for every time he had apologized to Mark in the last few months.... 

Beth was wiping under his eyes, wiping away what he assume was tears he hadn’t meant to let fall. Chris leaned forward suddenly to hug her, and she left out a soft _oof_ as he held her to his chest. Beth took a second to untangle her arms and wrap them around him, as he pressed his face into her the crook of her neck. They stayed like that for some time. 

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” She stood him up slowly, and lead him through the hallways back to his room, laying him down on the bed before climbing in next to him. Chris noted that the room didn’t seem as warm as before, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him. Beth smiled against his skin and kissed at his jawline, softly as ever.

“Mark doesn’t blame you,” She whispered to him and Chris buried his nose in her hair. For now it would be enough to lull him back into a dreamless sleep. Pressed against Beth, in the middle of the never ending space between Earth and Mars. 


End file.
